


ADR: Beginnings

by psychicTransmissions



Category: A Dark Room - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:16:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicTransmissions/pseuds/psychicTransmissions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are the main Wanderer of A Dark Room. Ship crashed, found a dark cabin, made camp.<br/>This story explores more in depth of what goes on in A Dark Room. It mostly just covers the story line of A Dark Room as well as The Ensign, but I felt like I should make this. ADR is not mine nor are any characters/ideas from ADR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginings

Dark night. The ship just crashed, apparently used too much fuel. Knew you should have stocked up more. Look around at your surroundings, not much but sand and trees on the horizon. Start towards them, encounter a few humans. Kill them all with ease, yet the bullets wound you all the same. Sand sifts beneath feet, the sound of progress. Reaching the tree line finally, you sit and take a break. No more water, but you see a ramshackle house nearby. One foot after the other. Climb the small stairs, break down the door. You hear commotion from within. You prepare yourself to find a human, armed with only a knife. Pity the fool, dispatch him swiftly. Dodge a swipe to the left, counter with a fatal blow to the head. Arm yourself with the tool, only slightly used, and search the crippling abode. Some meat in the cooling block. Water runs from the tap. Fill up your water skin, head back out. Go back to the forest, siphoning the water. You run into a few beasts, nothing you cannot handle as a mighty Wanderer. At times there are thoughts. The exploring, exciting you. The woods, this plane, an adventure. A cabin in the forest is chanced upon. Seems to be a single room. A dark room. A hatchet is outside, leaning against the wall of the cabin. You take it and chop wood from the trees surrounding the cabin. Night is at its peak, and you head inside. Light fire. Take flint and steel like you had learned from training, and soon a fire has started. A dim light emanates from the embers, casting shadows about. Stoke the fire, more light now. Sit back and take inventory. Knife, water, meat. You shake your head; too much has gone too wrong. The war efforts long forgotten back with the ship. Hours pass, and the fire sputters. You get dirt from outside and throw it atop the remaining flame. Fire, extinguished. Darkness, resumed. You lay down on the wooden floor. Sleep comes quickly.


	2. Second Awakening

Wake up, see that it is dark again. You feel refreshed, you know you have slept through the day. Get up, lay down some wood and light the fire again. Light spills out into the woods. Illuminating darkness, feelings of conquering arise again. Again you push them down. You stoke the fire, the door opens. In comes a ragged girl. Memories expand inside your mind, a different time, a better time you suppose. She collapses in the corner opposite your measles supplies. Stoke the fire, the wood is running low. You place your knife next to the stranger, a form of protection if trouble arises. Exit the room, enter the woods. Fetch hatchet. Gather ten blocks of wood, think of the girl. Concern. A deformed creature appears. Destroy it, harvest some meat from the corpse. Have to cook it, feed the girl. Return, hang up hatchet, lay down the wood. The girl is sitting up, knife untouched. She looks at you, and you begin to cook. She mutters unintelligibly, shivering despite the roar of the flames. You stoke the fire, throw more wood onto it. The room is hot, and she no longer shivers. You give her meat, she gladly accepts. She speaks. Says she can build things. Says she's a friend. The night passes, she falls asleep. You take back your knife, carving absentmindedly into the walls. Flashbacks of the fleet. You carve. The admiral, commanding them. You carve. Galaxies pass by unnoticed, each night a celebration of conquest. You carve. The builder, her nonchalant attitude. You stop. Set down the knife. Lay down, let the darkness of dreams envelop your mind. You slip away from the room, the rough scratchings of history etched forever into the wood. Now, sleep. Now, dreams.


	3. Third Light

Arise from your slumber. Fire seems to have died sometime last night. Natural light streams into the room. A dark room, brought to temporary light only to be engulfed by darkness at a later time. The builder is not here. You get up, inventory you knife and grab the hatchet. She builds, she says. You bring material, she will make. You gather more wood, the simple task gives solace. Gives purpose. Can't give up. You come back to the room, she stands inside. She says she can make a cart for carrying wood. She says she can make traps to catch creatures. She gets to work. Your mind drifts to other things. The future. Ask him before he crashed, he would say the future was set. Now, not so sure. Later she says she will make a hut. She leaves, comes back later. Says she put up a hut in the forest. Says word will get around. You have her make a cart. Some traps too. Time passes, now evening. You stoke the fire, the fire is roaring. Set up traps, cart more wood. Someone new is there, takes occupancy in the lonely hut. The fire roars, the night continues without consent from anything or anyone. You retire to the dark room. The builder joins. She mumbles a good night, you notice a locket around her neck. You say nothing about it. Scratching sounds could be heard beyond the walls. You investigate, the noises stop. You go back inside, sleeping once again.


	4. Fight Or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, more of a flashback to The Ensign

Days before the invasion, but not many. The air is charged with barely contained excitement, sometimes not contained at all. The warrior Wanderers in the back of the Admiral's ship shout with glee, preparing themselves to conquer. In the room next to the warriors, Occultists chant their chants, glyphs swirl around them, glowing a plethora of colors. Armor, weapons, artifacts all materialize before them slowly, and you envy the ability. But you know it's not your job. Up front where you are, the captain of the ship stands at the wheel. He is grinning and his hands shaking in happy anticipation. Then there is the builder that reminds you so much of the ragged girl that stumbled into the room. The builder on the ship stares at galaxies passing, silent.  
Then of course, the fleet that accompanies your ship. Outside, in your sector of space, there are countless vessels, awaiting, moving in unison towards the target planet. Only a few days left. The executioner begins to charge the weapon, the air even inside the ship is humming with charged particles.

Days later. Their moon blown to bits, death all over the pitiful place. War torn ground. Bombed out shelters. Wanderer and human weapons either strewn about or constantly being fired, Occultists chanting clear and loud, buffing and arming Wanderer troops. No two battlegrounds more than a mile apart. Each battle is different. Some, humans clearly dominate the field. Others, Wanderer destruction plain to the view. A few are more like a tie, not clear who is winning. At each section of war, blood is everywhere. No avoiding that stuff. Strangely humans seem to also have the blood that Wanderers carry within them. Do they also have Occultists? 

The battles tear into the night. You are with the Admiral and five others. Hours upon hours pass, casualties on your side keep occurring. Now just the Admiral, you, and another are left on your side. Fleeing becomes inevitable. Take off, running under the cover of darkness. The last soldier besides yourself and the Admiral, shot dead at last. Sniper work. Shots ring in your ears, none more find their mark. Soon, only distant shooting. Find yourselves near a swamp. Settle down under the stars, the Admiral starts a fire. Survive, for now.


	5. Battle Scars

Days later. Haven't fought since that day your troop was nearly eradicated. The Admiral kneels from exhaustion. Says the war is lost. Says that Wanderer destruction ends here. You know better, the Wanderers cannot be defeated. His resolve has weakened. Pathetic. It's never over! Need to get to the starship. Call reinforcements. Can't go thirsty, fill your flask with swamp water. Nasty but will have to do. Look over, the Admiral extends a hand. Step toward him, he holds out a few meager scraps of food. You refuse them. He will need them as you explore the surrounding area. Decide that this swamp is a home base of sorts. Come back here to store gear. You embark, leaving the Admiral behind. Death awaits. Their humanity, this world, makes them strong.

Leave the swamp. Look around at the tree infested area, see a house in the distance. Looks abandoned. Head there, sipping swamp water. Perhaps better water will be available at the house. Approach the entrance, kick down the door. Stomach growls. Loot the cabinets, raid the refrigerator. Find some food to last a little while. Move on. Find a bathroom. Pour the last of the swamp water down the sink drain. Refill the water skin. Find a dagger in a bedroom, inventory it. Find a few torches as well. Leave the small building. Head back to the camp, hear the Admiral scream in pain. Must be some old wound opening up.

Get back to camp. Half of the day, gone. Eat with the Admiral. Hands you a compass, tells you to hurry. Leave once again. Venture back towards the house, find a small cave. Light a torch, enter the murky darkness, knife ready.


	6. Post Flashback Thoughts

Back in the dark room, awakening from your flashbacks. Days have passed, most of them spent reminiscing over the war. More people have arrived in your tiny village in the woods. Had the builder build more huts. She reflects upon humble beginnings, see her smiling from time to time, a faraway look in her eyes. You share in her thoughts as well. Think back even before the war. Simple times, good times.

Having a hard time sleeping, yet looking upon the village an its inhabitants bring peace. Reminds you of home, coexisting with others. Better times. 

Need more done around here, have them work harder. Builder looks at you, worried or some other emotion clear upon her face occasionally. Ignore it, focus on running the village. Have the Builder make more traps. Have the villagers set them. Wait. Fetch traps, get fur, meat, the rare scale or two. More huts.

Two more days, builder says a hunting lodge can be built. Says she can also build a trading post. Supply her the wood and fur. She builds.

Typical night in the dark room. Builder sits across from the fire. Get some wood, stoke the fire. Don't know where the hatchet was put, probably somewhere with the villagers for easier access to them. No need for you to use anymore anyways. More to focus on. Builder said something, you didn't hear. Ask her to repeat, she says she's worried. Ask why, she replies with a simple "you." Shift your gaze to the fur on the floor. Say you're fine, not to worry. She says she understands. Says don't work to hard, moves next to you. Look in her eyes, she smiles. She turns, and uses a simple gesture that seems universal between humans and wanderers. Wraps her arms around you. Not sure what to do at first, but do the same after a moment. Mutter a thanks, break off the embrace. Feel a bit of uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. Emotions? Feelings? Taught no such things for warrior Wanderers. Strange. She smiles at the fire. Builders did not have such rigorous training as warriors. Was she taught the same, psychologically wise? Possibly not. She seems content. You are unsure. About many things, but this topping the list. Say you are going to sleep. Even a Wanderer like yourself needs a good rest. She says good night, says she better do the same. Put out the fire. Darkness settles in.


	7. Cooked Bacon And A Compass

Wake up to the smell of cooked meat. Stomach rumbles. Sit up, see the Builder nowhere in the small room. Sunlight streams inside from the sun, hear commotion outside. Happy voices. Get up, open the door and walk outside. Immediately see the Builder serving cooked meat and other food near a fire for breakfast. Four huts surround the fireplace in a large half circle, wooden tables right outside of each. Builder smiles at each Wanderer, sees you and holds out a plate for you. Step to her, take the plate and mutter a thanks. Take a seat at the table outside of the room, Builder joins after a few minutes. Says that they needed a nice time to spend together. Refugees from the war, they obviously came here to get away from it all. Simply nod, take a bite of the meat. The atmosphere was a very positive one, chatter and laughter. Take a look towards the woods, long to adventure once more. She has that look on her face again. You look back at her, say not to worry. She says nothing.

Day goes on. They head back to work on the village. Time wears on, day turns to night, another family finds their way to your tiny village. Head to the dark room, see the Builder tinkering with wood, already have a fire roaring. Sit next to the fire. An hour passes, time spent thinking. Stoke the fire, fetch some wood. Restless nights continue, this simple task helps calm nerves. She senses your agitation, yet says nothing and fingers the locket around her neck, seemingly lost in thought a million miles away. Decide to sleep. She nods. You have nightmares about a compass.


	8. Reemerging Thoughts

Woken by scratching on the walls. Morning. Check out the noises, see a small beast scamper away. Don't bother with it, head back inside. Sun just rising above the treetops, some villagers out and about but not many. Wave to a few of them. Memories resurface. Home planet. The war. Recognize some villagers as time goes on from both places. Spaceship crash must have done something to you. Enter the dark room again, Builder still asleep. Strange, she is usually the first one up out of any in the village. Memories of her surface, once forgotten, now remembered. She was the Builder on the Admiral's ship, the one who was always silent. Even during meals she sat alone in the dining hall at her own table. You always noticed her yet did nothing about it. Suppose it was the warrior way, never bothered with anything that didn't concern you. She wakes, gives a confused look. Realize you were staring at her, blush slightly from embarrassment and look away. She yawns, gets up and heads outside. She sleeps in her clothes. Strange for a Builder, but common for warriors. To each their own. Follow her outside. Begin to think again. Exploration. Past ventures. Brings you to think about other aspects of this world. Is there a world out there? Beyond the village? Since you crashed, nothing seemed to matter. Village life has taken over, but now the outside seems more enticing. Look upon the border of the forest. Figures dance in the shadows. Look back to the Builder. She stacks wood near the fire pit. Don't want to leave, yet the old urges of conquering and exploring start to surface once more. Try to push the feeling down once more. Later. Deal with it later like you always seem to do.

Nothing but village life should matter anymore. You're past that point in life. Nothing else should matter

But "should" is just a suggestion, right?


	9. The Cave

The fire is roaring. The room is hot. Memories of a swamp with a dear friend. Stargazing, just you and the Admiral. The memories become flashbacks.

Enter the damp cave, light a torch. Ready your knife as you venture deeper. The earth here is cracked, split open as if even the earth is at war. There are three separate paths aside from the one you came from. Choose the right path, enter into a small room like cave. Remains of an old camp sits just inside the cave. Bedrolls, torn and blackened, lay beneath a thin layer of dust. A Wanderer stayed here in hiding. Loot the abandoned site, find some still decent food and torches. Take them. Continue onwards, a cave lizard attacks. Makes a few connecting hits, yet cannot withstand Wanderer might. Take its flesh. Good for cooking. Light another torch, enter a supply cache. Toss your knife for a steel sword and loot various other items you recognize from the war and from home. See a bolas, some torches, and food. Take as many as you can carry. Exit the damp cave, head back to camp armed with more than before. The Admiral sleeps underneath the small tent like structure. Leave him be for now. Store the flesh from the lizard and the bolas for now. Take the spare knife. More to fight with. Look around at the outskirts of the swamp. Getting dark. Lay down opposite the Admiral. Take a bite of food and pass out. Dreams await.


	10. The Tannery

Enter another cave. Mid morning, already up and at em. Warriors were trained to get up early. Try drilled that into everyone's heads. They made sure of it so that even to this day it would stick in your mind. Memories of rigorous training. Push those aside, not wanting to go back to those times. Delve deeper into the abyss. Light a torch, come face to face with a beast. Sigh, and slaughter the poor thing easily. Walk around its corpse. Enter a room. Find the body of a Wanderer. Seems that not all of the body is there. Seems that rot has been to work on it. Look onward, keep walking. The torch sputters and dies, light another one. Another creature jumps out at you from the rocky shadows and crevices. Kick it, slice it, decimate it. Find the things secret stash of goods. An old torch, a rusty blade. Take the torch, leave the blade. Exit the cave, look around at the wasteland. See smoke rising in the distance. Head toward there, face minimal resistance to your progress. Near the small civilization. Realize that it's a tannery. Just a small community, trying desperately to rebuild. Smoke billows from the tannery. Men mill about, finding solace in the day's work. You admire their will to survive and progress. Admire what they live for, that they still wish to live.

Attack.

Startled, a man grabs his knife.  
Then he falls.  
Ambushed by another.  
Not for long.  
The last human attacks. A look of lost hope.  
Damn straight.

Dead silence. The machines, bloodied, but still work. Find a rucksack, water skin, and some leather armor. Leave the site of new death. Head for the swamp. Need to hurry up, need to make it to the ship.


	11. The Tannery 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more of a POV of the human tannery workers. I added my own little twist to it, but otherwise it's more of a human standpoint of ADR

He is one of the tannery workers, and he enjoys his work almost as much as the next guy. And that's to say, he hates his work because he is one of the unfortunate many to be alive right now.  
It all started half a year ago, when the first Wanderer made contact with Earth. They claimed to want to simply coexist on the same habitual plane as the humans and inhabitants of the planet. Peaceful agreements were made, and Wanderers came in flocks to the Earth, usually in groups of three to four spaceships. Everything was going smoothly for a while; Wanderers gave technology to the humans in exchange for living without conflict.  
It only took a few months for it all to turn sour. Soon conflict was everywhere. Usually it began as arguments between humans and Wanderers, then evolved into full out war. It never was pretty, the type of advanced warfare going on everywhere took its toll. Soon, wastelands became the new norm for what was expected to be seen. The Earth was ruined, and as the Wanderer race grew tired of endless conflict, most began to fly out in groups. Humans began to rebuild, fixing and repairing what they could.  
In this man's instance, he and a few others began with a small tannery.

The second man is also one of the tannery workers. He coincides with the others in the small community, and usually minds his business while working. He doesn't mind his workload as the day's work brings an end goal of sorts. He always looks forward to it. Since the horrible wars had been over, the tannery men had reflected a lot on past ventures and privileges. Many of their friends have died, many people who had lives ahead of them. Makes a man think.  
For the past month, the men at the tannery have worked nearly nonstop, producing leather and other such wares to be shipped to bigger cities in exchange for money and other goods. It was decent considering how it could be, how many people don't even have houses anymore. Occasionally the tannery has visitors other than the trucks that haul the load out to other places. These visitors were Wanderers. Wanderers willing to surrender themselves to humanity. They had stayed behind after most of the population left, stayed behind with a ceremonial knife. The Wanderers told the tannery workers to sever their arms while the blade was red hot. They said that it signified the humanity inside them, said that they surrender.  
So they complied. This ritual only happened a few times. Not many Wanderers remained, but the ones that had surrendered had informed everyone that another invasion was imminent. They were returning, and there won't be any stopping them.  
The tannery workers dismissed the warnings. So did the rest of the humans.

This is the third of four tannery workers, and he lives in a small community near a tannery with the other workers and some defected Wanderers. The second invasion has been raging for a while now. Wanderers and defected roam alike where they please, engaging in wars almost anywhere. Although the Earth is scorched from war, most battles do not take place near the tannery. The group of four-plus-defects still continue to rebuild. The defects help as much as they can, carrying loads and supplies upon their backs with special harnesses. Not too much happens around the tannery regarding Wanderers. Until that day.  
It was late afternoon, and the sun was still mildly high in the sky. Work was going on like usual, smoke being emitted into the sky from smoke stacks. Upon the horizon, a Wanderer appeared heading straight for the tannery. He was assumed a to-be defect by workers and defects, so he was not payed much attention until he was close enough to make out the weapons that he held. He had a determined, set look in his eye. He stopped right outside of the tannery grounds, scanning the surroundings. He drew his sword, and headed for the nearest worker. By now the defectors had already dispersed, probably having sensed some malicious intent before the humans. The fight between the Wanderer and the first worker was short, and by the end blood was oozing from various deep cuts on the worker. The second worker appeared to check out what had happened. He grabbed his knife, and slashed. It was over in a flash, the Wanderer stepping forward and stabbing the man's neck. Impaled, he fell. The third worker was found by the Wanderer, and the worker knew he had lost. He also knew that he would not live. The Wanderer sealed his fate with a fatal slash of his sword across the man's chest.

You are the fourth tannery worker, and you overslept. A defector bumped into your house as he ran by. You get on your shoes, and step outside. You listen, realizing that there is no commotion of work that usually takes place on a daily basis. Intrigued and afraid, you walk to the tannery, and examine the machines as you approach. Blood on nearly all of them. You keep walking, passing dead bodies of people you knew fairly well for the past six months. You reach the opposite side of the tannery, and look out at the horizon. You spot a figure making his way to the more forested area, the way to a nearby swamp.


End file.
